


The Wrong Kind Of Dinner Party

by Tooti_Fruity



Series: Cacophony and Entropy and Apathy In NYC [2]
Category: Futurama
Genre: Homophobia, M/M, Racism, awkward dinner parties, wow this is like something out of a sitcom lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-23 20:19:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17690234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tooti_Fruity/pseuds/Tooti_Fruity
Summary: Bender was initially excited to go to Fry's place for dinner.That intial excitement was poorly misplaced.





	The Wrong Kind Of Dinner Party

**Author's Note:**

> Man, Fry's parents continue to suck!
> 
> Anyways, fun fact: Bender and Fry are both autistic! Lemme know if you catch where Bender is stimming <3

It should’ve been, for all intents and purposes, an ordinary dinner scene. When Fry invited Bender over to meet his family, it should’ve been a nice night in and a chance to meet the people who bore the love of his life.

“Bender!” Fry calls.

What it turned out to be, however, was something far more infuriating. And Bender almost couldn’t believe how poorly things went.

“Bender, slow down!” Fry pleads.

How could anyone be so ignorant? How could someone manage suck so _much_?!

“Bender, stop!” Fry shouts.

Bender stops dead in his tracks and turns around.

“How could they-who do they think they-what he fuck just happened?” he says. Fry just shakes his head.

“I can’t believe you did that. They’re gonna hate you now!” Bender gawks at him.

“What I did? Fry, they were hurting you! And it’s like you didn’t even care! Besides, I sorta got the vibe your dad didn’t like me when he said I wasn’t a real American!” he yelled. Fry shrank in on himself.

“Please don’t-I’m sorry, I can’t-” And with that, Fry is clawing at his bare arms. Bender’s anger evaporates, and he swoops in, grabbing Fry’s hands gently.

“Hey, what did we talk about? With the scratching?” he murmurs. Fry shakes his head, making a choked noise. Clearly, he’s in no state to speak, and Bender swears at himself for upsetting him so much. “C’mon, Small Fry, I…shit, I just-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean upset you. I’m not angry with you, I’m angry with _them_ for doing that shit to you,”

Fry leans into Bender’s touch and lets him guide him to the curb, where they promptly sat down.

“I’m gonna ask yes and no questions, and I want you to nod or shake your head, okay?” Bender says. Fry nods his consent. Bender sighs. “Is what just happened normal in your house? Like, are they always that way with you?”

Fry hesitated, but he eventually nodded.

Bender’s stomach dropped, but he pressed forward.

“Okay, have they ever hurt you physically?” he asks. Fry nods.

“Was it your dad?” A nod.

“Does your mom do it too?” A shake of the head.

“Do they always insult you like that? Speak over you?” A nod.

“Do you think they know we’re together after what just happened?” A shrug.

“…shit,”

******************************

_Bender is excited._

_Well, to be more exact, he’s excited and nervous. Tonight, he’s finally going to meet his boyfriend’s parents. Even if they were only going to introduce him as Fry’s best friend, it was still a huge opportunity to show the Fry family that Bender can be, and is, good for Fry._

_So here he is, standing on their doorstep, freshly showered and fidgeting his hands. He knocks on the door, and as it opens, Fry comes into view. Their faces light up at the sight of each other._

_“Bender, I’m glad you could make it!” he says with a laugh. Bender beams at him._

_“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss it for the world, baby!” he responds before moving in for a bear hug._

_He probably should have known something was wrong when Fry tenses and steps back. Bender’s face falls, but he quickly recovers._

_“Right, sorry. I forgot that I can’t be gay with you here,” he murmurs, stepping into the foyer. Fry closes the door behind him, and he takes in childhood home of his lover._

_It’s certainly nicer than his own apartment but still relatively modest. The TV in the next room can be heard blasting a football game, and Fry’s mother is currently juggling her attention between a mixing bowl and the program._

_“Ma, Ben’s here!” Fry calls. She turns to them, finally seeing the much smaller man, and rushes over to greet him._

_“Ben, it’s so good to finally meet you! I’m Margret. How are you?” she asks, smiling kindly. Bender observes the quiff of her orange hair, her long nose with a small ridge in the middle, her soft hands; he finally knows where Fry gets so many of his favorite features from. He shakes her hand, but before he can respond, she continues._

_“Dinner is almost ready. Phil’s dad and brother are working on something in the basement, but they’ll be up soon. Make yourself comfortable!”_

_She promptly returns to the kitchen, and Fry flops down on a couch unceremoniously. Bender joins him, making sure to keep a few inches of distance between all parts of their bodies, save the small and subtle holding of hands. Fry squeezes his hand gently and, staring at the ceiling, continues their earlier conversation._

_“I’ve never seen mom this excited to meet one of my friends before. Her and dad don’t really like Amy and Leela very much,” he explains. “Honestly, it’s kind of nice,”_

_Bender hums in agreement, and he sits up to check that no one is watching before leaning over._

_“It’s gonna be hell not being able to touch you, baby. Come to my place tomorrow night to chill so we can make up for it,” he says with a wink. Fry flushes._

_“Bender, not now,” he scolds. But there’s no bite in it, and before Bender can respond, Mrs. Fry comes back into the living room._

_“Phil, could please go get your father and brother?” she asks. He nods, and Bender takes note of the way he tenses up and trembles a little._

******************************

“How long has this been going on?” Bender asks. Fry whimpers and takes a shallow, shaky breath.

“As long as I can remember…” he responds. Bender holds him tighter.

******************************

_“So you must be Ben,” Yancy Sr. grunts. Bender takes in the other man, at least two or three heads taller than himself. His thick hand is extended, and his face is fixed in what he assumed is a permanent frown. Bender takes his hand, giving it a hearty enough shake._

_“That’s me, Ben Rodríguez,” he says in what he hopes is a warm enough tone. The other man’s face twists into a scowl, and he jerks his hand away. Bender shoots Fry, who is lurking behind his father next to his brother, a questioning look. Yancy Jr. shakes his head, sighing, and Fry winces and mouths ‘I’m sorry’ over his mother’s shoulder._

_“Let’s eat!” his mother says, her voice sounding overly cheerful, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. Bender nods his consent._

_“Sounds good to me,” he comments. The group moves towards the kitchen, Fry hanging back slightly so he can address Bender._

_“Don’t mind my dad, he’s a little…old fashioned,” he whispers. Bender feels a pit forming in his stomach._

_“What do you mean ‘old fashioned’, dude?” he hisses._

******************************

“Promise me, Fry; if they ever pull shit like that, you come straight to my place. My parents already complain you’re not around enough,” Bender tells him sternly. Fry gives him a watery smile, hugging him.

“Okay, I promise,” he says.

******************************  
_Bender’s always been pretty blunt, and he’s not gonna sugarcoat it. The entire night has been a shitshow._

_It wasn’t a sudden realization, of course. Maybe it was Mr. Fry’s scowl when he mentioned how much Mrs. Fry’s food reminds him of his mother’s (Spanish) cooking. Or maybe it was the way he scoffed and muttered under his breath when Bender casually dropped the fact that his grandparents are immigrants in a story about his first day of school. Or maybe it was the way that he commented that it was ‘fitting’ that he works at Tillman’s, given ‘who he is’._

_Either way, things are escalating quickly._

_“-and it’s all these damn immigrants, taking our jobs and stealing our women,” Mr. Fry ranted. “If they’d just stay in their own shithole countries, we wouldn’t have half the problems we do!” Bender clenched his fists under the table. Mrs. Fry, forcing her voice to be cheerful, added onto that,_

_“Of course, we’re not talking about hardworking and dependable people like your parents! Your people are…very hardworking! We just mean the criminals and slackers,” she explained. Somehow, that was even worse._

_“Oh, so we’re good enough to mow your lawn and clean your house, but we’re not good for anything else?” he snaps. She shrinks in on herself at that, and Mr. Fry puffs up like a cobra._

_“Don’t speak to her that way, you ungrateful little-”_

_“DESSERT!” shouts Yancy. The whole table looks at him in bewilderment, so he continues, voice slightly shaky, “Dad, why don’t you help mom get dessert ready? Me and Phil can keep Ben company,” he says. Yancy Sr. mulls over it for a moment, and with a grunt of consent, stands and follows a flustered Margret into the kitchen. The second they’re gone, he turns to the other two men._

_“Look, this fucking blows. I get it. They’re being ignorant. But you need to survive dinner, both of you. Phil, stop pulling on your hair. And Bender, quit fidgeting with-is that a bowl? Why? Where did you even get that?!” he cries, exasperated. Bender shrugs._

_“I sorta do that when I get angry,” he explains. To his right, Fry is still pulling on his hair, so he leans over and whispers, “Baby, c’mon, just breathe. You’re gonna be okay. I’m here for you. I love you,”_

_When Yancy pulls a face, it occurs to him that he may have said that louder than he intended to, and that Fry may not have told him they’re together, and Bender suddenly panics a little. Fry, his eyes shiny with unshed tears, promptly wipes his face on his sleeve, and seeming to read Bender’s expression, says,_

_“He knows,” Bender sighs in relief that he didn’t just potentially ruin everything, and Yancy elaborates on his brother’s thoughts, explaining,_

_“I found one of those fag-” He cuts himself off when he sees Bender’s death glare, and continues, cautiously, “Well, I found one of the letters you wrote him when I went looking for something in his bag,” Bender glares at him, suspicious, and says,_

_“You didn’t tell-” But Yancy’s groan cuts him off._

_“No, Christ, I’m not a snitch. But you both need to be more careful. You’re about as subtle as a trainwreck,” he complains._

_As if one cue, Fry’s parents return with the dessert, some kind of cookie and cool whip concoction, placing it on the table. Fry’s father bores holes in Bender with his eyes as he sits down, while his mother seems content to avoid looking at him altogether._

_“Eat up, boys,” she says in a strained voice._  
_Everyone eats in an uncomfortable silence, the only sound being the slow crescendo of the noise of Fry scratching his arms. Bender furrows his brows and makes a concerned noise, murmuring softly to stop to try and calm him down, when Mrs. Fry angrily hisses,_

_“Philip, stop scratching yourself. You look like a freak,”_

_Bender’s blood pounds._

_“Don’t talk to him like that,” he says in a low, dangerous voice. Mr. Fry slams a hand on the table, shoving his chair out and clambering to his feet._

_“Don’t disrespect my wife, you ingrate!” he snarls. Not to be outdone, Bender assumes the same position, slamming the bowl he had been fiddling with down on the table._

_“Don’t disrespect my best friend,” he snaps. Mr. Fry’s face goes a deep red, and he growls,_

_“You people are all the same. Lazy, disrespectful, conniving little-”_

_“Oh, yes, tell the class how you really feel about ‘my people’, why dontcha?” Bender retorts, going to throw his hands up. He miscalculates, however, and before he realizes it, he’s lifting the table. Everything goes sliding towards Mr. Fry, and Mrs. Fry yelps,_

_“The silverware!” This seems to anger him further._

  
_“See, if you were really an American, you’d learn a little respect and decency! You people have no respect for a hardworking American’s property, trying to flip our table in one of your rages!” Mr. Fry shouts._

 _“If I was really an-newsflash, asshole, I am an American! I was fucking_ born _here!” he screams._

_To his left, he notices Mrs. Fry has gotten up and is backing away towards the kitchen. To his right, Yancy is pulling Fry up and leading him away from the scene. And suddenly he can hear, through the roar of his blood in his ears, Mrs. Fry speaking._

_“See what you did now, Phil? You ruined everything! Why do you have to always be such a disappointment?” she yells. Bender advances on her, sticking a finger in her face._

_“Stop saying shit like that! He’s better than you’ll ever be!” he shouts. “And don’t pretend you’re any better than your husband, not when you’re just as racist and heartless as him!” She regards him coldly._

_“Ben, I think it’s time for you to go,” she says. He turns from her, stomping over to Fry and grabbing his arm._

_“That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all night. Fucking gladly!” And with that, they’re out the door._

******************************

Fry shivers, and Bender vaguely realizes that in the rush to get out of the chaos of the Fry household, they didn’t spare enough time to let Fry grab his jacket. It’s still early March, and it’s freezing outside. He swears under his breath and pulls off his own leather jacket.

“Here, it’s a little small, but you can put it around your shoulders,” he murmurs, wrapping it around his lover. Fry is still shaking, and Bender goes in for a small, lovely kiss.

They remain like this for a moment, Fry on the verge of tears, Bender still shaking with rage and fighting the urge to start pacing. Fry laces his fingers through Bender’s and they pull away, their breath mingling hotly between them.

“I fucked up, man. I’m sorry things went to shit,” he whispers. Fry shakes his head.

“Nah, they were…I get why you got angry. They were being shitty to you. I probably would have done the same thing,” he reasons. Bender hums and leans against Fry’s shoulder.

“You wanna go to my place?” he asks, after a short lapse of silence. Fry considers this, and with a grimace, shakes his head.

“The longer I stay away, the worse it’ll be when I get back,” he says. Bender sighs, exasperated, but nods in understanding and sympathy.

“I’ll see you after I get off from school tomorrow?” he offers. Bender nods.

“Stay safe, yeah?” he asks. Fry waves him off, and he takes off towards the house, about a block away at the moment.

It isn’t until Fry is gone that he realizes that Fry never responded. His heart sinks.

******************************

The next day, when Fry shows up after school at the shop, he stretches and reveals a handprint shaped bruise on his arm and an ugly, purple bruise near his hip. Bender feels his blood pound, and he immediately resolves to call Leela after he leaves work and gets to his own apartment. His mom regards him with concern when he stomps into the house, and she shares a knowing look with his dad.

“Benjamín, mi cielos, what’s wrong?” she asks softly, putting a delicate hand on his face. He glances away and sighs.

“Nothing, mamá,” he murmurs. His father moves in.

“Ben, you know you can always talk to us, mijo. It’s okay if everything’s not okay, son,” he says. Bender groans.

“Well, I just…am going through a hard time with Fry right now,” he explains. She furrows her brow.

“Are you two on the outs?” she offers. He shakes his head.

“No, his parents suck. They’re racist and they make him feel bad about himself, and it pisses me off. Things sorta escalated when I went to dinner at his place a few days ago. I’d rather take some time to process stuff, if that’s okay?” he requests. They share a glance before both nodding.

“Take all the time you need, son,” his father says, and the two of them move to return to the inside of the kitchen.

In the next minute, he’s punching in the buttons on the landline of Leela’s phone number. He hears the dial tone, and it begins to ring. On the other end, Leela picks up.

“Bender?” she says, her voice colored with confusion. “Why are you calling so late?” Bender sighs.

“Are you alone? I kind of have some sensitive information,” he explains. She pauses, and then says,

“Amy’s with me, is that okay?” Bender nods, and when he remembers she can’t see him, he responds verbally.

“Yeah, that’s great, actually. I was gonna call her next. Put me on speaker,” he says. He waits a moment, and then he hears Leela speak.

“Okay Bender, you’re on speaker,” she says at the same time that Amy says,

“Hi Bender, what’s up?” He hesitates, but with a deep breath, his resolve hardens.

“I think something’s wrong with Fry,”

**Author's Note:**

> for the record, fry's parents hate leela for being trans and amy for being chinese (which makes her a communist in their minds)


End file.
